Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1887-02-11

SCENE-Rachelors' Mess at Fort Bowie,
Arizona. Time-A Winter Night. The
General, Veteran of the Civil War,
and an Old ForJy-niner, speaks.
Yes, there arc many, great many,
good stories told by pioneers, some more
exec, lent than true. Now, Lieutenant
D., down there at the other end of the
table, has father who tells very many
excellent stories, and he tells them so
often at the Pioneer Society's dinners
that imagine he is beginning to believe
them himself. have never to d this
story before. 1t will explain why Il
common stovepipe, like the one coming
out of that stove in the corner, is always
a grim reminder, in my eyes, of early
California days. A few years after our
occupation of the State, l was stationed
in Southern California, near Lo, Angeles,
and one afternoon strolled out to the
scene Of the Los Angeles massacre, in
which friend of mine, a young Of
ficeB and some enlisted men had been
killed by the Mexicans some time before.
While endeavoring to get good idea
of the position occupied by our troops
accidentally stirred up the earth
with my shoe, and looking down saw
something glisten like gold in the sun. l
picked it up and found it to be q human
finger bone, and still on 1T the West
Point class ring of my dead friend,
marked with his name and the date of
his graduation. Ihad visited his family
in New England, so [ w.ote to them, in.
closing their boys ring and explaining
how it had come into my possession. In
the course of time | received very
grateful answer, requesting me, if [
could identify the young mans remains,
to have them disinterred and sent home.
found the remains and shipped them,
nicely boxed, to the Depot Quarter
master, then in San Francisco, re ues ing
him to hold them, as / would come along
in month myself and re-shjp them. In
due time [ received another kind letter
announcing the arrival of the remains,
and the family seemed not able to thank
me enough for what had been no trouble
to me at all. Later on, having been
granted leave of absence, which was
spending in the East, 1 found myself in
New York City and | received an invita-
ton to visit the family again So one
Saturday morning started and reached
the lovely old homestead, which was
beautifully situated in New England
town. | was Hospitality received. On
the following morning, Sunday, I was
taken to the little cemetery and shown
my friends grave, over which had been
erected beautiful marble monument in
scribed with his name, military history,
and the date and manner OF his death.
After a delightful visit left, and my
leave being up received orders to pro
coed to San francisco to report for duty
as Depot Cuartermaster. In those DAYS
Quartermaster', when relieving each
other, were very careful to see that all
public propertJ recei pied for, en- to
the last bolt, was there in the storehouse,
before touching pen to the receipts re.
ieving the other from responsibility.
The amount of property was great. and
it took me four days to verify it accord
ing to the invoices. On the invoices
were some orig nal boxes of stovepipes,
that IS to say, some which had never
been opened. While going around with
the Quartermaster-S Sergeant, on the after.
noon of the fourth day, we came to the
boxes of stovospipas. Being Original
packages, l did not order them to be
opened. but satisfied myse f bv moving
them slightly in order to see if they were
of the proper weight had moved six.
teen or seventeen of them, when one
seemed to be unusually light, aud l di
rected the Sergeant to open it. He die
so; raised the lid of the box slightly, ant
oked in. In ticed him quickly dror
the lid and start back with a frightened
10 k on his face, and I said "What'
the matter, Sergeant, isn't it all right ?
mo, sir, there's no stovepipes in there
he half gasped out. 1 sail: "What il
there in the box2" He said: "There'
bones, human bones, sir. / saw skull.
The truth then ia he'd across my mind
had made mistake and had shipped
the wrong stovepipe box to the old home
stead in New England. paid the Gov
ernment the price of one box of stove
pipes, gave the old Quartermaster a full
receipt, had the remains nicely buried il
San Francisco, and until this moment
have never breathed it. But Lowell,
white marble monument in that prett,
little New England town marks the las
resting place of my box of stovepipes.
II.
II have not, SO far, given Lieutean